


meet me in the pit

by perlaret



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crowdsurfing, M/M, Moshpit Meetcutes, Sheer Self-Indulgent Silliness in the Name of Friendship, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/pseuds/perlaret
Summary: So, Poe's friends are probably going to judge him for this later.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vintagewhine (pineovercoat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/gifts).



The bassline thrums, sending shuddering waves of vibration through Poe’s frame. He can feel the music in the pit of his stomach. It arcs outward through his limbs in flares of adrenaline that only heightens with every shove of another body into his. He can see flashes of his friends’ faces out of the corner of his eye, Snap and Karé to his left, rocking out like the old hats they are, and Jess slamming some poor sucker with all the gumption of a newbie who’s just figured out what she’s doing. He catches Jess’s eye and winks; she hasn’t seen anything yet.

All it takes is a tap on a shoulder and a jerk of his thumb upward, and a little finagling beyond that as his fellow mosher takes a knee to help him up, but within moments, Poe is boosted above the crowd. He whoops as he goes up and is pushed forward by the people holding him up, catching a glimpse of Jess’s expression of wicked jealousy before he’s surfing away. It’s exhilarating, being pitched across the crowd like an awkward, elated float. 

Poe’s completely prepared ride it out, letting the hands beneath him carry him all the way to the front, but that plan is derailed before it comes to fruition. The support beneath him abruptly thins and Poe finds himself back on solid ground, on the outskirts of the crowd and on the opposite side of the stage as all his friends.

He huffs in resigned annoyance and looks around for someone to help him back into the fray, and boy does he find somebody.

The guy is six-foot-something-else, with sullen lips and a sweaty shock of dark hair that could feature in a number of Poe's naughtier fantasies. He’s hanging near the edge of the mosh, dressed in black from head to toe and trading glaringly obvious stinkeyes with a mustachioed bouncer who probably expects the guy to start a fight any minute. He’s got that look. 

Poe likes the look.

He taps the guy on the shoulder, interrupting the cold war stare down. Tall, Pale and Surly looks down at him with a frown. Poe grins back and gestures him closer; he bends in, loose hair brushing the sharp angle of his very biteable jawline. Up close, Poe can tell he’s built like a brick house beneath his shitty band T-shirt, and he’s looking at him with an intent sort of focus that Poe tends to associate with good things. Damn. The stars are clearly lined up in his favor tonight.

“Give me a hand up?” Poe asks, raising his voice to be heard above the music and jerking his thumb back toward the center of the throng. The guy rolls his eyes in a somewhat discouraging turn, like he gets asked this a lot, but a moment later he nods shortly and mouths, ‘Fine.’ Poe feels a swell of good cheer, followed by confusion when, instead of taking a knee, he turns Poe around, sets his hands at his hips, and -- in the hottest and most unexpected turn of events all night -- basically fucking _deadlifts_ Poe backwards into a crowd surf.

Poe, to his credit, manages not to die and ascend on the spot, but it’s a pretty close call. He whoops again breathlessly and focuses on keeping his head up and enjoying the ride, but this time, the rush is coming from a wholly different source.

This time he does make it to the front of the stage, the bouncers wrangling him down and shooing him toward the side and back into the crowd. Common sense would dictate he go left and find his friends. Poe considers this fact, and then discards it. Poe goes right.

It appears his luck has run out though, because Mr. Solid Tank has vanished, as has the bouncer. 

“Well shit,” Poe mutters, putting two and two together with a surge of disappointment. Ah well, the guy was probably trouble anyway, given the way he’d clearly been radiating ‘spoiling for a fight’ at everyone in a five foot radius. It’s a good reminder to keep his own more reckless urges in check.

Poe shrugs it off and shoulders his way back across the pit. He doesn’t think about it again until they’re heading out for a breath of fresh air not long after, the break between sets a prime opportunity to cool off and catch a smoke. Poe and his friends cluster into the damp alleyway when he looks across the way and catches sight of his elusive moshpit meetcute, standing alone at the mouth of the sidewalk and struggling with his fetchingly pretentious matchbook in the misty night air.

Poe reaches blindly for Karé’s arm, eyes fixed on his prize. “Hey, hey. Can I borrow a lighter?”

“A lighter? What happened to quitting?” she laughs, even as she finishes with hers and starts to pass it his way. Then she pauses significantly, and Poe feels her, Snap, and Jess collectively follow his gaze in that way that friends are wont to do when they think they’re on to something. 

“Ah,” Snap says.

“Wrong habit,” Jess surmises. 

Poe grabs the lighter out of Karé’s hand before she can back out; she just looks amused. “What is all this judgment I hear?” Poe laments. “I thought I had my _supportive_ friends with me today.”

Karé laughs. “Sorry, Poe. Just because Muran broke his leg and couldn’t make it doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

“We wouldn’t be your friends if we didn’t question your dubious life choices,” Snap adds.

“Uh huh,” he says. “Thanks guys, really, but time’s wasting!” Poe flips them off with all the good nature he’s got left, which is truly more than they deserve, and then turns on his heel to gauge his approach. He pushes his hair back from his face, damp and curled from sweat and the misting rain, and lets the thud of his heart make time for his feet as they carry him to where the other man slouches against the brick wall of the building. The man flicks another failed match away in unrestrained annoyance.

“Need a light?” Poe asks, very smoothly, seizing on the convenient opening. 

His eyes flick over, and there’s that surly frown again as he takes in Poe’s face and the lighter he’s just thumbed into life. The flame gutters in the wet breeze, but ultimately holds. 

“Sure,” he says, and leans in with his cigarette to catch the light. The flare of yellow illuminates his face, catching on the moles and freckles that speckle his cheeks; they’d been too dark to see in the crush of the pit. There’s also a bruise blossoming over the crest of his right cheek. Poe’s stomach does a little cautious flip when he pulls away, mouth pursed around the filter of his cigarette.

Poe smiles, breathing in. “You got a name?”

“...Kylo,” he says, exhaling smoke. Weird name, maybe not real, but sure, he’ll take it. “You’re the guy from inside. Crowd surfer.”

“Poe,” he offers. “Hey, you remembered me? I’m flattered.” Poe makes a little bit more of a show than is strictly necessary of giving Kylo a once-over, the kind that can’t be mistaken for anything other than the checking out that it is. “Big guy like you must get a lot of requests.”

Kylo pauses and gives Poe a funny look. Poe replays the words in his head and briefly contemplates picking up his foot and shoving it in his own stupid mouth, before Kylo snorts, breaking the weird tension.

“A few. I’m used to it.” Relieved, Poe leans a shoulder against the wall, shooting for casual, and congratulates himself for it when Kylo’s eyes drop over him tellingly. He fixates on Poe’s fingers. “Need a cigarette?”

“Maybe,” Poe says. “But I was hoping I could hassle you for a drink.”

Annoyance unexpectedly creases Kylo’s forehead, his full lips turning toward a sneer. He drags on his cigarette, the end flaring brightly. “Sorry. Can’t go back in.”

“Oh.” Poe gestures at the bruise darkening his cheek. “I didn’t think that was there when we ran into each other earlier.”

Kylo grunts in acknowledgement, then digs into his pocket. The movement draws Poe’s attention to the carabiner attached to his beltloop as a keyring; its rainbow decal shockingly bright against his otherwise dark clothing. Poe enjoys the welcome spike of triumph and relief that comes with a well-calibrated gaydar even as Kylo grumbles, “Yeah, well. The bouncer’s an ass.” 

He pulls out his box of cigarettes, tilts his wrist in an unspoken offer. Poe bites his lip, shakes his head, and indicates the one already in Kylo’s hand instead. He raises his eyebrows but obliges Poe anyway, passing it over. Poe doesn’t break eye contact as he takes a pull, savoring the taste of the smoke on his tongue. Three weeks for fucking nothing, but he can’t pretend he gives a single damn with Kylo’s gaze fixed on him like it is.

“There’s a decent place down the street,” Poe suggests.

Kylo blinks. “Huh?” 

“A bar,” Poe clarifies with a none too subtle grin and offers back the smoke. It’s still pretty dark, so he could be wrong, but Poe is pretty sure Kylo is flushing a little. Not what he expected, and thus charming.

Kylo taps away some ash tersely. “Do you always pick up guys at these things?”

Poe laughs. “Probably not as frequently as you do,” he counters, waggling his eyebrows significantly. Kylo huffs what could be reasonably mistaken for a laugh as he raises his cigarette back to his mouth.

“Am I really supposed to believe a guy like you actually came here alone?” he asks, clearly still skeptical at the invite for some reason Poe can’t quite pinpoint. Poe shrugs.

“Well no. But given that my friends are probably already gossiping about you and me to everyone I know all over snapchat already,” he says, casting a pointed glance back over his shoulder where Karé and the others are still huddled near the venue door, “we might as well give them something of substance to tease me about later, right?” 

Kylo considers this, then drops his cigarette, uses the thick toe of his boot to snuff it out. “I could use a drink,” he says. Poe claps him cheerfully on the back, an entirely different wave of exhilaration pitching its way through him. It makes him feel like he’s floating, a little.

“On me,” he promises, and thinks that the rest of his night is definitely looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> For Asia, who asked for this.
> 
> You can also find me at my [tumblr](http://chelliaphra.tumblr.com)!


End file.
